


Blink

by vinumxvitae



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Angst but make it fashion, Drabble, M/M, More Fluff, One Shot, slight mention of nsfw activities so i upped it to M, very short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23195932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vinumxvitae/pseuds/vinumxvitae
Summary: Jolyon glimpses the blueprints beneath Uldren's bravado. Time doesn't pass when he's learning them.
Relationships: Uldren Sov/Jolyon Till the Rachis
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Blink

On the surface, Uldren is a dominant and overpowering presence. He’s smart, cunning, shrewd in a way that’s off-putting. He stands only half the height that his arrogance implies but his voice is commanding and he wields it well. 

His facade only slips for one person.

Jolyon considers himself blessed to bear witness to Uldren’s gradual undoing. 

Time has never felt linear, not to Jolyon, but it feels even less so when his nights grind to dead stops and his mornings drip like honey from lavender lips. He blinks and suddenly he's in front of Uldren's workbench, watching the Prince tinker with drones and listening to his latest scheme. Another blink and he's staring back at radiant golden eyes that glow even in the near-perfect darkness of Uldren's room. 

The moments that stick -- the ones that aren't lost between the beats of his lashes on his own cheeks -- seem to last forever, and Jolyon feels as though each encounter is another lifetime lived within the span of one solar cycle. 

He sleeps so soundly with the Prince at his side that he wonders if morning is some sort of glorious rebirth, a second chance on a life never lost. Heaven, he imagines, is an expanse of black satin and soft sighs, marbled with white and black hair and lilac-on-ash skin. Heaven is just between Uldren's lips and Jolyon can taste it each time they kiss. 

Uldren unravels beneath his fingertips. Practiced fingertips, an inventor's touch that never ceases to be curious and thorough. Jolyon dismantles him and reassembles him, improving each time until they fit together like hand-tooled machinery. 

Jolyon blinks, and he's racking the bolt of his Supremacy. The action is smooth, perfect, improved by his own hand. He blinks again and his hips roll with Uldren's. Smooth, perfect, made flawless by cycles long gone.

He dismantles Uldren over and over, polishing the pieces until the edges are worn away and only the malleable core is left exposed. Uldren's voice is softer, his kisses sweeter, his facade entirely gone if only for the night. Jolyon worries that if he blinks, he'll be forced to start over, that his Prince will be venom and sharp edges once more come the morning. 

Uldren's facade doesn't slip again. Instead, it's cast aside willingly, draped over the foot of the bed like a weighted cloak. Jolyon blinks and Uldren is still tucked into his side; his kisses still taste of heaven.


End file.
